


the games we play (we play to win)

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Game Night, I blame seb's love for the color blue, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Angst, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Stucky - Freeform, a tiny amount because i'm not good at it, stucky au, they're playing flip sip or strip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Flip, sip or strip," Sam remarks - that tell-tell smirk on his face when he's up to no good.<br/>Somehow Steve had gotten wrangled into the game and oh boy. Steve could already tell that he wouldn't like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the games we play (we play to win)

"Flip, sip or strip," Sam remarks - that tell-tell smirk on his face when he's up to no good.

Somehow Steve had gotten wrangled into the game and _oh boy_. He could already tell that he wouldn't like this.

Bucky has the decency not to cough under his breath though it's obvious he's really holding back. He continues to keep up the smokescreen but Steve knows him better than anyone living or dead; knows when his mind is in the gutter.

Typical Bucky.

The three of them are sat in their kitchen at 2am even though Sam bristles and comments - "Only weirdos are up this late at night". Weird doesn't even begin to cut it. They're a ragtag group of mismatched  pasts that overlap.

"I'll go first," Bucky volunteers.

Steve's heart begins to pound harder against his rib cage at the thought of seeing Bucky naked or at least partially undressed.

 _CALM DOWN,_ he tells himself but it only beats harder.

Bucky tosses the penny into the air - "Heads."

It comes down with a graceful spin and lands on tails.

"Alright, take a piece of clothing off," Sam instructs much to Bucky's disdain.

He removes the soft slippers he'd bought last month when a cold snap hit and his feet had never quite got warm enough.

"I'm half tempted to make you go again because shoes don't count," Sam chides.

"Shoe's _are_ clothing," Bucky argues.

Steve remains silent, filthy smirk on his face as he watches Bucky bend and tug the slippers off and really he shouldn't be all hot and bothered about a pair of slippers and....and...that hair and it's happening again.

"Steve are you okay? Said your name three times," Sam questions.

"What? We could always use reinforcements," he mumbles - hopes that it's the correct reply because he was too busy sizing Bucky up with his eyes and imagining undressing him one slip of fabric at a time.

"For _shoes?,_ " Bucky asks - eyes attempting to meet Steve's but Steve keeps darting them at anywhere but him.

"You can never have enough shoes," Steve replies - it's true. He'd only had a single pair when they were children so Bucky, being Bucky, had given him the pair he'd outgrown (or so he claimed). The future offers a wide array of footware - buttery soft slippers, sandals that were held together by superglue and a prayer, steel toed boots in four different designs, polished dress shoes for extravagant events and Steve maybe has a collection of shoes that he rotates weekly but you'll never hear him admit it.

"Flip the coin, Casanova," Sam teases.

"Heads," he calls as it tumbles down down down.

Tails - it lands on tails.

Bucky is grinning like a hungry wolf in sheep's clothing as Steve peels off his t-shirt and if Steve didn't know better he'd assume Bucky was flirting with him.

But he knows better than that.

It's Sam's turn next and he gets it wrong so he chooses to sip instead only his sip is more like a gulp of strong liquor - Bucky isn't sure how he manages to not burn a hole right through his esophagus.

The penny is then passed back to Bucky - "Heads."

It lands on tails.

He groans and takes a swig of his drink.

Steve tries to ignore the disappointment in his chest and berates himself for lusting after (okay that wasn't entirely honest on his part, _loving_ ) his best friend and feeling crestfallen because he chose not to remove another piece of clothing.

"Heads," Steve says as he flips the penny.

It hands correctly for once and Bucky shakes his head - "You just wait, you're gonna be down to your skivvies with me."

He really shouldn't have said that, honestly. Steve's mind is more than thrilled to provide a very sexual visual for him and this isn't the time nor space for him to get excited. Not when he'd been taking three showers a day because Bucky felt that wearing nothing but boxers around their apartment was a stellar idea.

In short, Bucky's being an asshole and it'd serve him right to lose every article of clothing on his body and _NO. Stop thinking about it, for godssake._

Sam grins widely at first Steve then Bucky as if he knows the secret they both harbor - both assuming the feeling is one sided when anyone with eyes could see that they're so far from discreet with their flirting and long stares.

"What color do you wanna go with?," he asks.

Steve gets that confused look on his face where his bottom lip juts out and he creases his forehead - "For what?"

Sam is barely holding back his laughter now, having gotten himself worked into a fit over thinking of Steve tripping over his words if Bucky lost everything but his boxers -

"I figured you'd have a preference."

Steve doesn't get it.

"What?"

Bucky turns to him and waggles his eyebrows - "Red? Green? I have black too."

_Oh. OH.  
_

Steve Rogers, Captain-fucking-America blushes. "Whose turn is it?"

"His favorite color is blue, you got a pair in that color?," Sam teases.

Steve would greatly like it if the floor reached up and swallowed him whole right about now.

"If you're not going to take your turn then Ill go ahead and take mine," he comments.

"That's not in the rules," Bucky counters.

"Maybe some rules were meant to be broken."

It's a transparent metaphor for whatever they are - best friends, brothers, boyfriends, teammates. He'd break the law in a heartbeat if they told him he couldn't see Bucky anymore or if they tried to hurt him.

Sam raises his eyebrows then flips the penny, it lands on the opposite of his choice so he removes a single sock.

"A _SOCK_ , Wilson?," Bucky groans.

"You're no better than I am, you chose _shoes._ "

Steve settles into his chair and watches the two of them bicker over what articles of clothing count and "How about we pretend that the 'can't choose the same option twice' rule doesn't apply."

"No...we're playing by the rules." 

Bucky huffs - "If you spend half your life playing it safe," he glances at Steve, "then you'll never know what might've been behind that door."

Sam stares at the two of them and rolls his eyes - "Man I don't have a clue about whatever you're going on about."

But Steve knows, wants to believe that Bucky is talking about more than game rules because, of the two of them, Steve is the rule breaker. But wherever Steve goes, Bucky will be there and he'd have no qualms about breaking every law in the book if need be.

Steve clears his throat and sits up straighter in his chair - "Your turn, Buck."

Bucky calls heads, it lands on tails.

Off comes his shirt.

Horrible idea, who even came up with the notion to play it? Oh that's right... _he_ [Steve] did. They'd needed something to cheer them up as last week was Veteran's Day and was a stark reminder of the end of a war that never quite stopped for them and so drinking games had ensued (thanks to google).

The game continues until they're all shirtless, Bucky down to his boxers as he'd predicted, half a bottle of whiskey consumed and Steve now down to one sock and his boxers. Sam, however, is still wearing most of his clothing (aside from the missing sock, a belt and his robe).

Steve decides that either this game is his all time favorite or his worst enemy - both perhaps.

Sam stands and yawns - "I'm gonna hit the sack. It's midnight and I'm too old to be staying up this late."

"Hmpth," Bucky scoffs.

"What's that?," Sam asks.

"You're really gonna let two 100 year old guys beat you?"

"From where I'm standing it looks like you're the one who lost."

And he has a point, dammit.

"Anyways. Night."

Steve waves a hand dismissively in his direction - the idea of being alone with Bucky is intimidating because Steve is forever one word away from screwing everything up by sticking his foot in his mouth and saying things he'd regret confessing.

 

"Told you so," Bucky goads.

" 'least I kept my socks. Well one at least."

"Yeah yeah, don't get a big head or anything - you're still a sore loser."

"That makes two of us," Steve retorts - lips tugging into a sideways smile.

"I'll be right back," Bucky states as he makes his way to the bedroom across from Steve's - Bucky's room is neatly ordered and contained; a sharp contrast against Steve's which looked more like a burrow for birds only instead of twigs and the like it was littered with weaponry and books.

Steve survived - they'll watch a bad movie now and relax and he'll do his best to forget how good Bucky looked without his clothes or how the metal gleam of his left arm caught in the soft lighting; making Steve want to capture some of that light for himself, to trace the notches in Bucky's arm and cradle a cold metal hand in his own. He'll try to erase that memory.

It never works. He has tried it many times including the time before the war came and ravished everything he'd ever loved but to no avail. His body likes Bucky's, it can't be helped. Nature is a finicky beast and Steve's life would be a lot easier if she wasn't but there's no need in making hollow wishes.

Blue.

Bucky returns in navy blue briefs that hug the muscular curve of his thighs and sit low on his hips - he's shameless in how he first walks over to the cabinets and rummages through them (does he feel Steve staring at his ass? Steve sure hopes not because he doesn't want to look away) then to the fridge - bending at the waist to examine a container of yogurt that Steve _knows_ is expired by at least two months.

Just as Steve has made up his mind to retreat to the shower, Bucky catches him by the arm and spins him around until they're facing one another.

"Flip," he instructs - penny pressed into Steve's palm.

"The game's over, Buck."

Bucky's hand lingers on Steve's shoulder, it's firm enough to keep him grounded but not hard enough to bruise. He'd never willingly hurt Steve.

"Rules are the person with the most amount of clothing on wins the game. Far as I can see it's a tie. Flip it."

Steve's best friend is a jerk.

He flips the penny, back turned away from Bucky and the enticing hard lines of his body.

It lands on tails when he'd called heads.

Bucky is all smiles as he shrugs - "Rules are rules. Off they go."

If Steve just doesn't look at Bucky it's possible he'd miss the raging hard on he'd been hiding under the table but even still he'd smell Bucky's shampoo (the one he insisted on paying $30 a bottle for because "I look like I'm the lovechild of a poodle and a lion when I don't fix my hair, Steve"), would hear his voice (so familiar, so welcoming) and get lost in it.

He doesn't stand an icicles chance in hell of getting this past Bucky's radar.

Bucky, being the smart ass that he is, watches as Steve attempts to quickly tug off his boxers but they get snagged on his foot instead which draws Bucky's attention to the nearby area that Steve had been hoping he'd _never_ look at or at least not when he's in a compromising position.

Bucky glances down, noting that his best friend is sporting an obvious erection, and then back up to blue eyes that refuse to meet his own.

Steve feels like a damn specimen on display and he wants nothing more than to pile on every scrap of clothing that he owns and hide out in his room in hopes that Bucky would forget what he saw.

No such luck either way.

"Steve?"

"I'm sleepy okay? That's...it."

Lying has never been Steve's strong suit, he fidgets and flickers his eyes around the living room; pointedly avoids Bucky's gaze.

Unfortunately for him his best friend happens to have filed that facial expression away decades ago.

"No you're not."

The tips of Steve's ears turn red and he purses his lips into a thin line, he's angry at himself for messing everything up. He's forever dragging Bucky down with him and no matter how hard he tries not to, Bucky insists on following him down whatever danger they find themselves in.

Tonight _they_ are the only danger.

"Red is my favorite color, remember?," Bucky asks.

Steve glances up for half a second then begins to trace the smooth texture of the penny on his palm. "I remember."

Bucky gestures down at Steve's lap - "Well."

_Oh._

Steve had picked the last pair of clean boxers that morning and they'd happened to be red with a black band along the waist - very form fitting.

When Steve doesn't move from his chair and doesn't speak, Bucky strides over to him and kneels beside of the chair - "You could've told me."

Oh god they're not having _this_ conversation. Where's the black hole? Steve would like to fling himself into it.

"No I couldn't have."

Bucky places a palm on Steve's knee, hand warm on his skin - "How would you know? You've never given me a chance."

He heard wrong, clearly he did. He'll have to clean his ears out more often or take himself to the nearest ENT. 

"Steve. Say something."

"Just give me a minute to clear my head," he replies - Bucky is too close for comfort and it's impossible to form a logical thought that doesn't involve shoving him onto the carpet and kissing along his neck, scraping his nails down-

STOP.

STOP.

STOP.

FOCUS.

Bucky stands and takes a step back, swallows hard as if he's as nervous as Steve feels.

Bucky, blue, everything is blue.

His eyes, his briefs, his discarded t-shirt.

Blue is most definitely Steve's favorite color - maybe they could even repaint the walls in shades of navy and teal...

FOCUS.

He takes heaving breaths in and out and does his best to center himself - it isn't that he swoons this hard on the regular (or at least not where Bucky can see), it's just that when you've been waiting for more than half of your life for something and it's right there for the taking, the thought of touching it becomes terrifying; like it might disappear into thin air at the slightest brush of fingers against skin.

"Here," Bucky fills a glass full of water and presses it into Steve's palm - "Drink, it'll help."

Bucky feels like an utter ass. He'd pushed too hard. He'd been doing that since they were kids - it was born out of a grave need to keep Steve safe but Steve had never saw it from that angle.

He leaves Steve and curls up in a corner of the couch, half watching reruns on the television, half wondering where the hell they were going to go from here.

It's ten minutes later when Steve has gathered himself (and his boxers) enough to join him.

"So."

"Yeah."

"Steve I'm sorr-," Bucky begins only to be cut off mid sentence.

Steve is clumsy in his movements - hand awkwardly hanging in mid air as he presses his lips against Bucky's just a little too hard.

Bucky pulls back and Steve braces himself for rejection. For _'I love you but not like that.'_

 _It's going to hurt and you're going to live through it because you love him and if this is all you'll ever get you won't be greedy_ _with it,_ he tells himself.

"Lil bit slower," Bucky murmurs - thumb against Steve's bottom lip until they part - Steve nervously licks his lip only to fail to register that Bucky's thumb is still on the curve of his lip. His tongue catches along Bucky's thumb which causes Bucky to make a small noise in his throat.

More of that, Steve thinks to himself.

He eases into the kiss then, takes his time with every inch and watches as Bucky tilts his head back to expose his neck (it's begging to be kissed and who is he to deny him this?) and grips Steve's hips roughly.

He has just pinned Bucky onto the couch and is pressing kisses along the inside of his thigh when a door opens.

"Uh...I'll be in here if you need me," Sam mumbles and then, horrified at what he'd accidentally implied, blushes.

"Not like _that,_ I mean if you need me to get an extra blanket or something unless you're hot...I can turn the air conditioning on. I should...I should go now."

There is the click of the door and the sound of a lock sliding into place (likely because he was mortified and couldn't face either of them right now) as Sam returns to his room.

"You wanna....?" Bucky gestures towards his room and Steve is on his feet before he can even finish his sentence.

Does he wanna?

Yes.

Only everyday of his life from puberty and leading up to this moment. What an understatement.

He can't help but laugh at the idea of having to share with the others about how they'd finally spit out their feelings and watching their faces change as they realize that what he has confessed is too much.

They'd have to heavily modify it and blame it on the whiskey, blame it on the game, blame it on long eyelashes and the color _blue._

**Author's Note:**

> the game:  
> https://www.rounds.com/blog/22-funny-drinking-games-drunk/
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING, hope you enjoyed our two fav pals playing a ridiculous game. neither of them can get drunk but that's not stopping them.


End file.
